


Prelacy

by shalashaskalot



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, F/F, F/M, Guardian Uldren, M/M, Multi, a lot of philosophy about the darkness later on, inner conflict
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-13
Updated: 2019-10-16
Packaged: 2020-03-02 13:20:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 14,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18811714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shalashaskalot/pseuds/shalashaskalot
Summary: With most of the eminent figures of Darkness dead or otherwise dispatched, balance has shifted in favor of the Light. The Darkness persists in the only way it knows how: whispering in the back of vulnerable skulls, promising everything to those who have nothing left to lose.





	1. Pro Tempore

 

The day that Uldren rose from his impermanent grave, Jolyon knew. 

 

He felt the stars shift. He felt the distinct crackle of Light rush across the Dreaming City, bringing a flush to his face as it washed over his skin and through his white hair. But this was not Uldren; this was something new, something that still wouldn't remember him, something that would hurt far more than the first go around. The irony of it all was not lost.

 

Jolyon felt Petra Venj glance at him across the vale. She knew, but the levity of it hadn't fully settled on her yet. 

 

"We should find him," Jolyon said quietly, barely detectable by comms. "Before someone else does."

 

"And do _what_ with him?" she hissed. 

 

"I don't know."


	2. Orion

"You don't remember anything about your old self?"

 

The raven-haired Lightbearer sighed, picking at his feathered greaves. 

 

"Not even my name," he answered. "Nothing. This...thing--"

 

" _Ghost!_ " 

 

"--this Ghost tells me I'm called to Earth. I don't see how I can be called without a name."

 

Jolyon regarded him warily from a sniper's perch. The vantage point forced him to recall just how small Uldren was; they were still opposites in every way, from Uldren's cropped black hair to Jolyon's long snowy mane. There was nothing physically _different_ about him save his attitude, which seemed to be quite tame compared to his previously insufferable and pompous ways.

 

Comparing the freshly-minted Guardian to phantoms of his Prince made Jolyon want to toss himself from his nest into the mists below. 

 

"I read a book once. From the Golden Age," Jolyon started, shifting warily as the Ghost circled him. "It said people used to map the stars by shapes and name them after like...gods and animals. That sort of thing. Maybe you could pick one of those?"

 

"Name myself after stars?"

 

"I don't see why not. I remember there was one named Orion. He was like a hunter or something. Is this thing...scanning me?"

 

"Maybe. I'm not sure what it...does, yet," the Guardian answered. "Or what it's for. But I like that name."

 

"Then keep it. None of it means anything anyway, make it yours," Jolyon told him. "I assume you don't have a ship?"

 

"I don't."

 

"Okay. I'll arrange you a ride on one condition: go straight to Earth and straight to the Vanguard. It's dangerous. Speak to them directly and keep your head down. Deal?"

 

Uldren -- no, _Orion_ \-- blinked up at him in confusion.

 

"I know you just met me. But things are rough out here. You gotta trust me," Jolyon continued, pushing up to his elbows from his perch. "Maybe we'll run into each other again somewhere else. Just not here."

 

"What's your name?"

 

"Jolyon."

 

Orion flashed him a warm smile that may as well have been a knife through the chest. He said his thanks before disappearing, and Jolyon had to lie still for quite some time until he knew no one could hear him weep.


	3. Eros

Jolyon did not have the patience to rely on chance. 

 

He tried to distract himself, to pass the time until a mission might send him out of the Dreaming City and into the Sol System, but he realized far too late that Petra was tightening her grip on on his daily routine with every cycle that passed. She manipulated his position to keep him busy but failed to provide him with anything to occupy his wandering thoughts. 

 

The moment she looked away, he cut his comms and disappeared.

 

* * *

 

“The white-haired man. Did he have a name?”

 

“Jolyon,” Pulled Pork answered. “Why?”

 

Orion sighed, tossing in his ship’s too-small bunk restlessly. “I feel like I should speak to him again. Do you think you could track him down?”

 

“I captured his Supremacy’s signature. As long as he’s carrying that rifle, I can find him. Would you like for me to locate him?”

 

“Sure. He did say he wanted to speak to me again. Right?”

 

“Sort of. And...looks like he’s in Earth’s orbit? Awfully far from home for an Awoken,” the Ghost answered. “Maybe it would be good for you to become friends. He seems like a well-travelled man. I’ve never seen an Awoken so blanched by solar winds before.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Sometimes, exposure to radiation can cause Awoken to lose their colors. He’s almost pure white except his eyes. Even his skin is so pale.”

 

“It’s lovely, though. Don’t you think?”

 

Pulled Pork hummed, settling his shell into the pillow beside Orion’s head. “He was very striking,” he agreed. “Almost scary though.”

 

“Not his face. His face was so pleasant. But maybe it’s because we were looking up at him.”

 

"You're supposed to be resting. Ikora said so."

 

"I am. I feel fine," Orion insisted. "I'm just overwhelmed. I don't understand why I didn't get into the Crucible with everyone else."

 

"I'm sure there's a reason. But why don't you read through the files she sent you? Maybe take a nap. We'll try again tomorrow."

 

"How much hassle would it be to contact him?"

 

Pulled Pork made a sound that Orion imagined was a frustrated huff, his shell flopping back onto the pillow with a thump. Before Orion could understand what was happening the Ghost had conjured a holoscreen on the top of the bunk and Jolyon was blinking back at him sleepily.

 

Neither of them said anything for what felt like an eternity.

 

"I ah...didn't ask him to hail you," Orion said carefully, struggling to keep his composure. "I asked about you and he ran with it. Sorry my Ghost is a stalker.”

 

“I figured when he scanned me he was up to something,” came the reply, and Orion shivered at the little laugh at the end of the sentence. Jolyon’s voice was low and rumbling like deep space resonance and the subtle flange did _something_ to Orion. "I see you're safe? Got your own ship?"

 

"Ship, armor, rifle... I was a little shocked. But look, you don't have to talk, I know it's weird--"

 

"Maybe I want to, though."

 

Orion froze.

 

"Unless you're busy," Jolyon added.

 

"No, not at all! I'm actually glad. You're the one that looks busy."

 

"I'm not, really. Tinkering like I usually do when I can't sleep."

 

Jolyon turned his comms onto his workbench, letting Orion ogle the scattered parts and tools. 

 

"Is that your rifle?" Orion asked.

 

"It is. I add to it every now and then. I've got telemetry information from all sorts of planets and waypoints...it reads my vitals... I think honestly my rifle knows more about me than I do."

 

"You must be the best shot in the Sol System."

 

"I _do_ have a reputation," Jolyon chuckled. "I was working on calibrating wind speeds. Something about it is a little off and I'm having to overcompensate my shots in high winds."

 

Orion watched contentedly as Jolyon rambled. Most of it was over his head but he made an attempt to learn as they went along until Jolyon paused to sweep his impossibly long hair up into a bun. Jolyon never stopped talking, but Orion quit listening.

 

He committed as much as he could to memory, from Jolyon's high cheekbones to the perfectly straight slope of his nose. All the strong angles of his face and the way his hair tried desperately to slide out of its heavy bun.

 

It wasn't until Jolyon yawned that he realized how long they'd talked.

 

"You should probably sleep," Orion suggested. "But will I hear from you again?"

 

"Maybe."

 

Orion hesitated until he saw the smile tugging at the edge of Jolyon's lips. 

 

"Bet," Orion said, and Pulled Pork cut the feed.

 

* * *

 

Orion was certain that someone had told him Guardians didn’t dream, but he did, and it was as vivid and colorful as real life. 

 

He dreamt of long white hair, wrapped between his fingers and brushing against his face. Jolyon’s bright blue eyes. The clash of half-undone armor and smooth skin, the taste of wine on soft full lips. 

 

This was not a memory; this was a want. He woke with a start, yanking fistfuls of sheets off himself to breathe and catch his bearings. 

 

“How long have I been alive?” he asked Pulled Pork, hearing the Ghost tinkering in the pilot’s nest. 

 

“One hundred and seventy two Earth-hours.”

 

“A week,” Orion mumbled incredulously. “Really?”

 

“Your pulse is very high. Should I—“

 

“Oh, I’m aware. I’m very aware, little friend.”

 

Pulled Pork’s eye narrowed. He bumbled back into the cabin, settling atop a footlocker. 

 

“Am I this pathetic?” Orion sighed, tossing himself into the bunk dramatically. “One week and I’m hung up over an Awoken I met once.”

 

“I think it’s normal. I’ve heard other Guardians call it a crush.”

 

“How do I fix it?”

 

Pulled Pork laughed. 


	4. Aporia

Ikora had never set foot in the Dreaming City. It took her breath away at first glance; the spires and crystalline mountains were unfathomably beautiful. The soft mandala projections that graced nearly every surface spoke to her as a Warlock but she found herself jerked swiftly back to reality when Petra Venj shook an empty burial shroud at her.

 

"I had no doubt it was him, Petra," she said lowly. "I guess I just needed to see it for some sort of closure."

 

"I felt the same way. I knew exactly where that little Ghost was headed when I spotted him in my scope," Petra sighed. "But knowing him before just makes it seem like some sort of sick joke."

 

"Does anyone else know?"

 

"Jolyon Till the Rachis. My right hand who's been missing."

 

Ikora grit her teeth.

 

"They were close. Very close," Petra continued. "Jolyon felt it happen. I saw it on his face."

 

"Would he tell the truth? Do you think he's pursuing him?"

 

"I pinged his ship leaving here with his trajectory locked onto a Corsair transport that I didn't authorize. I think it's safe to say curiosity will get the better of him if his own feelings don't first."

 

"He'll be sorely disappointed if he thinks Uldren is still anywhere in that body," Ikora murmured. "I spoke with him. He's as docile and warm as a house cat. Said a stranger here helped him pick his new name."

 

"Had to have been Jolyon. We have a hard decision to make, my friend."

 

"I believe the decision is made. We have to tell him before the wrong person does." Ikora trailed her hand over the cold stone dais thoughtfully. "But which one of us should do it?"

 

"That's a fair question. You might have the best hand here, considering you've already spoken to him. He doesn't know me," Petra answered.

 

"I'll call him to the Tower again and break it slowly. Keep your comms open."


	5. Hedylogos

"Helmet on, Guardian."

 

Lord Shaxx had a voice that could rattle the entire Tower, and yet Orion found it endearing. He slipped his helmet on quickly and Shaxx let the transmat take him along to the newest map.

 

The kill tracker on Orion's holo-sight only went up and up. He wasn't a prodigy by any means but his efforts were noticed, especially as he grew into his abilities. His natural curiosity lead to fast progression and soon his name was being shifted from Crucible rosters to Strike candidates. As a Blade Dancer, he was as graceful as he was deadly; he captured Zavala's attention in no time.

 

But Zavala said the same thing.

 

"Helmet on, Guardian."

 

"In a non-combat zone?" Orion countered.

 

"It's good habit," Zavala said quickly.

 

Orion shrugged it off. When his first Strike when off without a hitch, Ikora summoned him to her perch in the bazaar.

 

"No need to take your helmet off," she said, interrupting him the moment he reached for the release. "I'll just be a moment. Why don't you take this to the Cryptarch?"

 

"I have to run back to my ship first. I found an engram on Titan," he answered. Pulled Pork twirled behind him, ready to out his fib, but Orion snatched him out of the air and tucked him into the hood of his cloak before he could chirp.

 

* * *

 

"I feel like everyone but me knows something. It's like a clique."

 

"I never said the Vanguard didn't have their own issues. I just said they'd help you." Jolyon let his communicator rest in the grass beside him as he lounged. "What do you think they know?"

 

"Something about me. I see people looking at me everywhere I go. They're always on about my helmet," Orion answered. "Where are you?"

 

"Hmm? Earth. Just on the edge of the EDZ where it's quiet. I was scavenging."

 

"It looks nice."

 

"Then come here."

 

Jolyon flashed a set of coordinates across the screen.

 

"You sure?" Orion asked, even though Pulled Pork was already locked onto the coordinates. 

 

"I've been talking to you almost every night for what...several Earth-weeks? If I thought you were shady I wouldn't answer the comms," Jolyon teased. "C'mon. I know you're in orbit."

 

Within seconds, transmat put Orion's boots on the ground just a few meters from where Jolyon lay comfortably in the deep grass. He tried not to stare, but the shock of actually _seeing_ Jolyon in person was almost too much to process. 

 

"He didn't really give me a chance to say no," Orion tried, but Jolyon shook his head.

 

"You totally had the chance. You just didn't."

 

Orion couldn't deny it. 

 

“Exactly. Here, take a seat. It’s good and dry here,” Jolyon finished, patting the ground beside him. “Saw you on the big screens in the City today. The whole flaming knife thing suits you.”

 

“You think?”

 

Jolyon nodded. “It’s pretty neat. Reminds me of a lot of things.”

 

Orion took a careful seat next to Jolyon, not too close, but just close enough that it satisfied that little bit in the back of his brain that wanted so badly to touch him. He could feel bright blue eyes follow him all the way down but couldn’t bring himself to meet them. 

 

“You have anywhere to be? A time limit?” Jolyon asked. 

 

“Not that I’m aware of,” Orion answered. “Why?”

 

“Just curious. Hoped you might stay a while.”

 

Orion felt his heart skip up into his throat. He took far too long to regain his composure. 

 

“Are you always this awkward or do I just do that to you?” Jolyon prodded. 

 

“Both.”

 

Jolyon laughed and let his leg come to rest against Orion’s ever so slightly. 

 


	6. Zagreus

Jolyon wasn't sure how long he slept. 

 

He'd first fallen asleep in the glade, in the cool grass with Orion tucked beneath his heavy arm. There were several seconds where he wondered if everything had been one long, horrendous dream; Uldren had slept in the same place more often than he slept on his own pillows. 

 

The Prince looked the same. Smelled the same. Felt the same beneath his arm, his head the same weight on his chest. It hurt, and Jolyon didn't know what to do with the sharp and sudden pain that threatened to rend his ribs from his sternum. 

 

"I have to go," he breathed, rolling Orion onto his back gently. "I have to go now."

 

"What?"

 

Allowing himself to touch Orion was Jolyon's second mistake; he let his hand sweep Orion's dark hair away from his face, and it was as soft and smooth as it always had been. 

 

"I'm sorry. I'll explain later," he said quickly. He'd already queued his transmat. "Wait for me to call you."

 

The second he was on his ship, he threw himself into his bunk and screamed into the mattress until his throat hurt more than the ache in his chest. 

 

* * *

 

The next time he woke, he could have sworn he heard a whisper just beside his ear. He sat up in a panic, feeling the sheets for Orion, but he wasn't sure if he was relieved to find his bed empty. 

 

His eyes burned. He coughed and blue blood speckled the back of his hand. 

 

"Where are we?" he asked the ship's computer, his voice raw and broken. 

 

"Orbit. Earth."

 

"I need to get out of here," he mumbled, mostly to himself. "Can you set a course for--"

 

"Sir, we are being paged."

 

"By...?"

 

"Another ship nearby. Would you like for me to patch them in?"

 

"Yeah, sure," he answered. He dragged himself out of his bunk, tying a haystack of white hair up in a half-hearted effort to look presentable. "Throw it up on the console."

 

He was presented with a haze of static. For a moment, he thought he could make something out; he fiddled with the controls for several minutes until he realized the signal was nothing more than an empty broadcast. 

 

"Is this a joke?" he asked. "Where's this ship?"

 

"They appear to be in low-orbit. Below us."

 

"Take me toward it. Maybe they're in trouble."

 

Exhausted, Jolyon slid into the cockpit. He could see his own bleary-eyed reflection in the windscreen and he groaned at the idea of greeting a distressed stranger while looking like death warmed over. 

 

"The pattern is not an emergency signal, sir," the computer warned. "It appears to be a voluntary page."

 

"We can't assume. Could be malfunctioning. Is that it?"

 

The silhouette that came into view was not what Jolyon was imagining. The shadow alone sent a chill down his spine that he hadn't felt since the Black Garden and he immediately hesitated, taking manual control of the ship's navigation. 

 

"This is the origin of the signal."

 

"Try to hail them back," Jolyon said warily. "If they don't respond, I'm not touching it."

 

He listened intently. For several seconds, static was the only answer. 

 

"No thanks," he groused, but when he reached for his navscreen a screech cut through every speaker in his ship. 

 

It was a sharp, metallic keen that rattled the teeth in his skull. He scrambled to escape the cockpit, hoping to get away from the source but it seemed as if his entire ship was groaning with the noise. 

 

" _Cut the feed!_ " he howled, trying desperately to cover his ears. " _Cut the fucking feed!_ "

 

The computer replied but he couldn't hear it. The emergency lights flickered on for a split second before the whole ship was engulfed in darkness, leaving him huddled between his bunk and shower in agony. He squinted back down the gangway, searching for the backup power toggle, but the only thing he could see was the ship backlit by Earth’s hazy blue atmosphere. 

 

When the sound stopped, he could hear his own heartbeat thumping in his ears. Each pulse was painful; he realized with a pang of fear that blood covered his hands and the sides of his face and neck. 

 

Fear gave way to terror. The air in his cabin wouldn’t last beyond a few minutes and he wasn’t entirely sure why the power was gone. He dragged himself down the gangway toward his helmet, eyes never leaving the hulking ship. It didn’t move, and he wondered if he was orbiting around it now or off course and drifting away in a different direction. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he began to make out the chitinous shapes that gave it such a menacing profile. 

 

He knew the grey ash-and-bone growth far too intimately. There was definitely an Earth ship beneath it, maybe even a Guardian’s ship, but it was encrusted in undead plates and spines that he immediately recognized as Hive. 

 

“ _Fuck_ ,” he whispered, fumbling with the backup power console blindly.

 

The ship whispered back. 

 


	7. Philotes

Orion waited patiently for Jolyon's call. 

 

He was lovesick. Over the moon, enamored, head-over-heels. Jolyon's disappearing act left him somewhat alarmed, but he took it in stride. Surely, he thought, there must have been something pressing that Jolyon had to take care of; surely it was nothing to do with him or something he'd done wrong. 

 

When he finally received the call, his heart dropped.

 

"You look exhausted," he blurted, plucking Pulled Pork out of his blankets to adjust the feed. "Are you okay?"

 

"I need to talk. I just need to talk to you," Jolyon said softly. "I don't even know what about. I just need the company, I guess."

 

"That's fine. Do you want me to come to you or...?"

 

Jolyon rubbed his eyes and in the moment that his head dipped, Orion could see that his ship behind him was an absolute mess.

 

"How about you come here?" he suggested, offering coordinates. "You can even stay if you want. Somehow I ended up with a three-man ship so there's extra bunks--"

 

"I'll be there in like...ten minutes."

 

* * *

 

"Did something happen?" Orion asked.

 

Jolyon blinked at Orion, half-awake. 

 

"If I told you, you wouldn't believe me," he mumbled, waving away Orion's Ghost. "Or maybe you would, but I'm not sure how to rehash it right now."

 

"Then just rest. We can talk about it when you feel better."

 

Orion sat down beside him in a spare bunk, offering a cup of what he assumed was hot tea. Jolyon's ears still rang even in the silence; he sipped at his tea appreciatively, struggling to tear his thoughts away from what he'd seen and heard. 

 

"Can I needle you for a minute? Unrelated to all this?" Jolyon asked, hoping to distract himself. 

 

"Sure. Go for it."

 

"You really don't remember anything from your first life? Like...absolutely nothing?"

 

Orion let Pulled Pork settle on his lap, tapping the points of his shell as if he were playing with a pet. "Absolutely nothing," he answered. "You asked me that before. In the Dreaming City."

 

"I did."

 

"Any reason why?"

 

Jolyon shook his head. 

 

"Can't say that I believe that response," Orion huffed. "It's awfully hard to take things at face value when you're technically a reanimated corpse held together by space magic."

 

"That is as disturbing as it is funny."

 

"Isn't it, though? I try not to think about it too hard." Orion reached across the bunk, bumping the back of Jolyon's chin with his knuckles. "Look, though. Cracked a smile, didn't you?"

 

"Maybe. I guess I'm just overly curious. I've run into so many Guardians and it just seems...counterproductive to erase what made them tick before. If that makes sense," Jolyon said. He leaned back against the far wall of the bunk, pulling his long legs up onto the mattress beneath him. "Who knows what you were like before, right? What your motives were, or your convictions?"

 

"I have a bad feeling I must have been a pretty shady sonofabitch," Orion admitted. He curled himself up into the bunk beside Jolyon. "No one will give me an answer. I just keep getting deflections and non-answers and it's infuriating."

 

"I thought it was taboo for you to go looking for answers in the first place?"

 

Orion shrugged. He nudged Pulled Pork away, letting the Ghost bumble off into another room of the ship. 

 

"I feel like I heard that somewhere once. That Guardians aren't supposed to look for that sort of thing," Jolyon continued. "Though I don't really understand why that's an issue. Are they scared you'll change your mind? Revolt for some reason?"

 

"Maybe. I don't know. I just wish that I wasn't the stepchild of the whole system. Everyone is as happy to see me as they are upset by my presence."

 

"What do you mean?"

 

"They're genuinely happy to help me. But it's like the longer I'm around, the less people want me there. It's visible. It's like they know something awful about me and it gets to them the longer I stand around. I can see it when they look at me. Remember when I told you about the helmet thing?"

 

Jolyon knew exactly the look the Vanguard were giving Orion. And everyone else in the Tower or on Earth.

 

"Maybe they're just looking to tell you at the right time. You couldn't have been dead for very long if you were in the Dreaming City, considering we just now entered it again for the first time in eons," Jolyon fumbled. "I wouldn't take it the wrong way. There's loads of Guardians who have questionable pasts but you aren't that person anymore. You got a second chance, I guess."

 

"Maybe. But I want to ask you some questions, too."

 

"About...?"

 

Orion hesitated, his eyes focused on something far past the stars beyond the windscreen.

 

"I don't know anything about you," he said finally, and Jolyon wanted to flinch away from his red-gold gaze. "Except that you're a sniper I encountered by absolute chance. You haven't told me why you're so far away from the other Awoken or what you're doing on Earth."

 

"You could have asked," Jolyon countered.

 

"Then tell me. What are you doing here?"

 

Jolyon shrugged, his pulse quickening as he thought up a lie.

 

"I trade with the Eververse woman. Tess," he said quickly. "She's been bothering me for something that comes from just outside the EDZ."

 

"A sniper...who scavenges for a woman not one step above con-artist," Orion said slowly, suspicious. "I feel like there's more to it than that."

 

"Can you keep a secret?"

 

"Ah. I can. But I knew you were up to something."

 

Jolyon leaned in close to him, struggling to keep his tea from spilling into the bunk.

 

"I'm a spy," he half-whispered, and it was not entirely false. "A Crow. Long, long time ago, the Prince of the Awoken established a huge network of Crows. We gather all sorts of information and take it back to the Queen. But since she's AWOL, we don't really have anything to do."

 

"And you're doing what? Spying on _me_?" Orion giggled. 

 

"Maybe."

 

"What did you do in this mystical spy network?" 

 

"All sorts of things. Most of the Crows called me the White Death. I hold records for shots that haven't been broken in millenia," Jolyon continued, and he couldn't fight the proud smirk that slid across his face. "There's not a corner of this galaxy I haven't seen."

 

"The White Death? That's terribly dramatic. You're the last person I'd associate with death. White is spot on, though."

 

"Isn't it? It's my own fault. My skin used to be blue until I futzed around in solar winds without a suit. Now I'm almost translucent."

 

"If I held you up to the sun, could I see through you?"

 

Jolyon laughed, offering Orion his hand. "Science experiment. Try it."

 

Orion held his palm up to the light of the Traveler. For a moment, Jolyon felt at home. He almost laughed at how comically small Orion's hands were compared to his, as they always had been, but the familiarity of the situation put him at ease.

 

"Damn. That would have been cool," Orion sighed, twisting his hand around in the light. "Your hair, though. Same thing?"

 

"Same thing. It was deep, dark blue. Almost black. But over time it just blanched."

 

"It's so long. Do you end up sleeping on it at night?"

 

_You told me never to cut it_ , he wanted to say. _You told me it was silk woven from starlight._

 

"Maybe that's an experiment. Seeing how long it'll grow," Jolyon replied. "I got another one, though."

 

"Another what?"

 

"Another experiment."

 

"That is...?"

 

Before Orion had a chance to react, Jolyon closed the distance between them. It was less of an experiment for Orion than it was for him; he knew without a doubt that Orion would yield and kiss him back, sweetly, but the true test was whether or not it would hurt.

 

He had no clue why he did it. Or if he really should have. It was impulsive and selfish and he felt the awful ache bloom deep in his chest again, forcing the air from his lungs until he was forced to pull away. 

 

“Bold,” Orion breathed, hunting for his lips again. “Is that going to go in your spy report?”

 

For a moment, Jolyon couldn't answer. He let Orion touch his face, leaning into his palm until he could finally look him in the eyes. 

 

He wasn't sure what he expected to see but there was a softness in Orion's bright amber eyes that Uldren never had. It wasn't innocence, that was entirely the wrong word. It was almost empathetic, maybe understanding. Something other than pomp and venom and Jolyon realized that maybe that was why he kept seeking Orion out, even knowing that it wasn't far removed from self-flagellation. 

 

He _needed_ softness. After unfathomable years of nothing but politics and death in the cold vacuum of space, Jolyon needed the reprieve. 

 

“I’ll falsify it. Say you were an awful kisser and terrible in bed,” he answered finally. He waited patiently for the implication to click into place, downing his tea and ditching the cup as he watched Orion’s face dissolve into shock. 

 

“That is bold,” he laughed. Jolyon didn’t miss the subtle flush on the Guardian’s cheeks. 

 

“Is it?”

 

* * *

 

Orion wished with every fiber of his being that he could memorize Jolyon from his perch atop him. 

 

The view from beneath him was beautiful in its own right; he could gather handfuls of gossamer hair and no matter how much he held away from Jolyon's face, more would cascade down to obstruct his view. Unbound, Jolyon's hair fell to his hips and Orion marveled at how it draped around his body like a veil. If he looked close enough he could see that it refracted the lights inside the ship, shimmering with every color imaginable, but there were far more distracting and fascinating things than Jolyon's hair.

 

From above, Orion could see every inch of the rifleman, from his stone-cut jawline to the subtle taper of his waist. The contrast of his stark white hands sliding up lavender-colored thighs was striking. He caught one of Jolyon's hands, watching him trace the faint markings that echoed the ones on his face. Up his arm, over his shoulder and his chest until long fingers tangled into black hair and teeth rasped at collarbones anxiously.

 

But then he felt Jolyon's fingertips follow the same marks on the back of his shoulders. He thought maybe he'd seen them before, that it was a lucky stroke, until Jolyon very pointedly pressed into the lines that sat just above the base of his spine. Orion knew for a fact that Jolyon hadn't seen them before -- if he was being completely honest, he'd just discovered them in the shower mirror only a week before. Pulled Pork had informed him that they were some sort of Awoken-related tattoos, possibly related to accomplishments or exploits, and he shrugged it off as lost information. 

 

It felt fantastic, but it reinforced a theory that had been spinning in the back of Orion's head since they'd met. He struggled to hold onto his thought when Jolyon's hips rocked into his, forcing him to steady himself against the wall of the bunk with a hushed reminder to be gentle, please. Jolyon laughed and silenced him with kisses. 

 

When they were still, both spent and bleary-eyed, Orion took his time exploring the planes of Jolyon's face. Jolyon kept him close, tangling their legs together as if to keep him anchored there.

 

"What are you thinking about?" Jolyon asked, sweeping his thumb over Orion's lips. 

 

"You."

 

"What about me?"

 

"I have to be specific?"

 

Jolyon squeezed his hip but Orion felt the same touch linger at his lower back, this time following the entire length of the tattoo mindlessly. 

 

"That worries me a bit," Jolyon murmured.

 

"Will you tell me the truth?"

 

"About what?"

 

"About who you are."

 

Jolyon shifted nervously. 

 

"I trust you," Orion added, trying to soften his tone. "I do. But you knew me before, and I want to know how."

 

There were several seconds of heavy silence that were nearly tangible in the air. Orion moved to kiss him and Jolyon dodged, his expression unreadable.

 

"I have to go," Jolyon said suddenly. He wrenched himself out of Orion's grasp, stumbling as he tried to pull his pants on and queue transmat at the same time. 

 

"No, you don't! If you don't want to tell me, I--"

 

But Jolyon was already gone and Orion was pleading with the walls of his empty ship. 

 


	8. Kydoimos

Just once, Orion paged Jolyon. He expected no response and wasn't shocked when Jolyon didn't answer. He wasn't sure how long it had been since Jolyon left, nor did he care to check. 

 

"Ghost, if I asked you to pull my history would you do it?" Orion asked, bouncing Pulled Pork up and down on the back of his hand.

 

"It would be better if you spoke to someone about it. I only have data, not experiences," Pulled Pork answered. "I'm not supposed to, but I can point you in the right direction to someone who might know."

 

"Other than Jolyon?"

 

"Yes, and I--...she's actually calling now. Should I put her on the console screen?"

 

"Who is it?" 

 

"Petra Venj. The Queens's Wrath."

 

"That's only mildly horrifying. Put her on the console but let me get dressed, I guess."

 

* * *

 

"Everyone knew him as the White Death."

 

Images of Jolyon scattered across the console screen, some with Orion in them. Orion hummed thoughtfully as he skimmed through them, ignoring the squeeze in his chest when he noticed a picture of him pushing Jolyon's hair back. It looked like it had been taken in secret; probably something a man with that title didn't want passed around the Reef, he figured.

 

"He was your right hand. The finest shot in the galaxy," Petra continued. "Dedicated. Level-headed. And A damn good man. He loved you, which is something I think even the Queen found difficult at times."

 

"That explains quite a bit," Orion said quietly. "Who was I? Was I good to him?"

 

"It's the longest story you'll ever hear and I don't have time to tell it, but you were the Prince of the Awoken people. Uldren Sov."

 

Petra sent him a file that looked to be a document filled to the brim with his information.

 

"You were as insufferable as you were intelligent and ambitious. I think a lot of the time we only got along because Jolyon tempered you. I needed your spies and you needed my Corsairs," she said, sighing. "And yes, you were good to him. Obviously he's still struggling with the idea of you as a whole."

 

More images slid onto the screen. Orion watched himself be escorted down a hallway by armed Fallen with Petra and Jolyon just behind.

 

"Do I want to know what I've done?" Orion asked softly, pausing the footage. Jolyon loomed behind him, his bright blue eyes obscured by his hood, but Orion could tell by how he carried himself that he was a broken man.

 

"You don't. You really don't. Ikora was taking too long to break all this to you but I need Jolyon back and you are the one thing keeping him from his duty," she answered. "Has he been with you?"

 

"For quite a while."

 

Petra drew a deep breath, trying to calm herself.

 

"I need you to be blunt," she told him. "I need to know the...nature of your relationship, as it is now."

 

"...Romantic? But now I know why he's been so conflicted, I guess."

 

"Tell me you two haven't--"

 

"Literally did about an hour ago. And then I called him out on not telling me who he was and he bailed."

 

"Every day, I get closer and closer to throwing myself out the airlock," she mumbled, shaking her head. "He is a god-forsaken fool. You can't help being a fool, you've had your brains blown out and reassembled by some fucking _orb_ from who knows where in deep space and--"

 

"Hey. Look. My Ghost is really weird and for whatever reason he scanned his Supremacy. You can track him that way if you haven't got any leads. No need to panic, I'm sure we can sort this out," Orion interrupted. "I'm sorry. I don't know what the odds are of me waking up with the hots for the same man out of the billions of us in this galaxy but shit happens, I guess."

 

"I don't think you understand how deep this goes, Ul--... Orion. I can't begin to explain it to you. But I need to find him before he does something stupid, so if you'd kindly send me his coordinates I'll handle that and you need to go straight to Ikora. Tell her I sent you because I waited long enough. I have things to do and I need my sniper back. I don't have time to be tangled up with you or Vanguard affairs."

 

"What about me? Do I have some holdover princely duty or am I just--"

 

"That's for your sister to decide. If she even still considers you her brother."

 

* * *

 

Orion didn't question Petra. He went straight for the Tower, mulling over what Petra had told him and pilfering through his own file. There were so many redacted sections that he wasn't entirely sure what he was looking at, but he gathered that he had been imprisoned for some terrible, terrible things. His own demise wasn't recorded.

 

When he transmatted into the Tower, he hesitated. There were several Guardians milling about and he considered going straight to Ikora as Petra had directed, but part of him was curious.

 

He reached up to his helmet and unlatched it, removing it slowly. Pulled Pork warned him, circling around him anxiously, but Orion tucked his helmet beneath his arm and brushed the Ghost away. 

 

All eyes fell on him. It occurred to him that he had never shown his face before; there had to be more than fifty people standing in the bazaar and he felt all of their gazes turn on him one by one, the whole crowd going silent as the gravity of it settled in.

 

"Is this a joke?"

 

The whisper came from somewhere in the back of the crowd. Not a soul answered.

 

"Where's Ikora?" Orion asked Pulled Pork, letting the Ghost settle in the palm of his hand. 

 

"Her library," Pulled Pork answered. "I really wish you hadn't done that."

 

"Too late," he chirped. 

 

The crowd parted around him as he made his way to the library.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry, this is kind of a rushed chapter. I'm changing jobs Monday and I'll have more time to write then, so just hold out with me until then!! I really appreciate all the wonderful reviews. You guys keep me going.


	9. Eleos

Orion watched Ikora pace her library. 

 

A cat settled into his lap, purring, watching him with half-lidded sleepy eyes. He scratched the cat's head nervously, letting Pulled Pork settle into the warmth between the cat and his lap. 

 

"I wish I knew where to begin," she started, pausing by her heavy oak desk. "I suppose I should be glad that Petra took initiative but I had other plans. Maybe it's best that she told you the more... _personal_ things, considering it wasn't personal for me until you killed my friend."

 

Orion couldn't reply. He looked away from her, unsure if he should even respond.

 

"Sorry. That sounds accusatory. The wound is still very fresh," she added. "It's hard to see you sitting there with my cat in your lap like none of this ever happened."

 

"I would apologize but I feel like it wouldn't be meaningful given the circumstances."

 

"You're right. It wouldn't mean a thing. You, as a new person, a whole new entity, have another man's actions on your shoulders only because you have the misfortune of sharing the same body."

 

Very carefully, she began to unfold a set of armor that lay on her desk. 

 

"What you did in the bazaar could have gotten you killed," she continued. "I was trying to prevent the inevitable. I thought maybe if I broke the news to a select few and let it travel that the shock would wear away and then I could introduce you as you are now; a new Guardian who I've seen grow and succeed, who seems to me to be compassionate and intelligent and not at all like his former self."

 

He scooped the cat up to hold it against his chest gently, following Ikora around her desk as she laid out a cloak and strides.

 

"By rights, you own this and a seat on the Vanguard that we desperately need filled." She motioned for him to come inspect the armor. "Cayde and the other Hunters were very peculiar. Each one of them has some sort of cache or will or something they leave behind. And I want you to decide if you want to take what Cayde left and shoulder the responsibility, or dodge it entirely based on what I'm about to tell you. "

 

"Let's get it all out in the open, then. I'm very, very tired of dancing around it," Orion answered. 

 

"I'll make some tea, then. This will take quite a while."

 

* * *

 

They spoke until sunrise. 

 

In the end, Orion took the armor. Ikora was as perturbed as she was relieved; she watched him assemble and shade it absently, her eyes focused on something far beyond her desk.

 

"Why black?" she asked.

 

"Seems fitting. Matches everything."

 

"You don't have to mourn with us."

 

"I won't. I didn't know him. The only thing I can do is try to make the best of the situation."

 

Grey changed to black and red to gold. The armor was a bit snug but Orion knew he'd break it in; he pulled a strip of his old cloak loose to replace the bandanna that came with the new vest, leaving just enough slack for Pulled Pork to settle down into the folds.

 

Ikora still wasn't sure what to make of the sight. He was stunning in the way most Awoken were, iconic enough to bear the title of Hunter Vanguard, but the shock would never fade. The Dare armor looked to be made for him.

 

"May I ask why I was even considered for this? Even outside the 'dare'?" he asked.

 

"How many Hunters did you see in the Tower?"

 

"None. Maybe one."

 

"They all scattered at the announcement. None of them want to be trapped here in the Tower, nor could they hold a candle to Cayde. I told you everything and you know the potential consequences yet you still took responsibility head-on. You've progressed and grown at a pace that Zavala and I feel is more than acceptable. I see no other choice as solid as you," she answered. "I have a fireteam selected for you. They were Cayde's but I believe they'll teach you more than I can."

 

"Can I meet them?"

 

"Of course. I need you to understand something about Galen, though."

 

* * *

 

Galen was the last Guardian that Orion imagined to be a king-killer. He was slight, willowy, not unlike himself. Black hair swept back from a fair ashen face and shrewd yellow-green eyes. There were only a few small yellow markings on his face that told Orion absolutely nothing about him save he was certainly an Awoken that belonged to some sort of clan.

 

"Hi! I murdered you once," Galen chirped, extending a hand.

 

Orion was taken aback. He returned the handshake warily, dodging the other Guardian's Ghost as it circled Pulled Pork.

 

"That's Binx. He's a mouthy little shit so don't let him bother you."

 

"Ah. I'm Orion, and this is Pulled Pork," Orion mumbled. "I didn't name him."

 

"I was about to ask. Ikora said you wanted to talk to me?"

 

"I mostly just wanted to meet you, I guess. She said you were Cayde-6's fireteam."

 

"Fair enough. Jude isn't here yet, but I think he'd get a kick out of this."

 

"No, no, I'm here, pause the festivities." Orion jumped when a pulse rifle crashed onto the workbench in front of him, followed by the Exo's hand clamping down on his shoulder a little too tightly. "Orion, right?" 

 

"That would be me," Orion answered. 

 

The Exo absolutely towered over both him and Galen; it took several seconds for him to regain his composure and face the Titan head-on.

 

"Judecca-7, you can call me Jude. Little ironic that you put him in the ground and now he outranks you," Jude said to Galen, both of them snickering. "I try not to question things anymore."

 

"I've got too much shit to do to be up here dealing with _paperwork_. I didn't want it," Galen corrected. "Where's your Ghost, Jude?"

 

"She's on the ship. She had something to repair last I checked."

 

"Well. Why don't we treat our fearless leader? All's quiet, thanks to us, and I think he could stand to unwind."

 

Orion shook his head, taking a step back. "You probably don't want to be seen with me," he said quickly. "I just stopped by to see--"

 

"Nobody in this entire Tower would dare speak to us out of line," Jude interrupted. "Not to sound rude or arrogant, but Galen and I have literally killed Hive gods. And more. Gaul, Riven..."

 

"That was the two of you?" Orion echoed.

 

"Sure was. Nobody will bother you if you just stick with us."

 

Orion couldn't say no.

 

* * *

 

Galen and Jude were mostly right. There were several sideways glances -- whispers echoed everywhere in the Tower. Orion pretended not to hear them.

 

It didn't take long for the pair to find an open spot at a bar and start tossing back drinks. Jude couldn't technically drink but Galen made up for that, knocking out shots like there was no tomorrow. As soon as Orion emptied a glass, another was placed right back in front of him.

 

He couldn't remember ever having been drunk. Or what it was like. All he knew was that it made him feel hot and fuzzy, like sitting too close to a fire. The warmth spread across his face and he found himself dissolving into the bar top, laughing at Jude's imitations of Cabal with Galen cackling behind him. 

 

For a moment, it was like the world forgot who Orion was, and he was okay with that. 

 

Jude pointed at another Titan who'd just come through the doors. 

 

"There's Dima," Jude said lowly, and Galen's face lit up immediately. 

 

"Dmitry. Only _I_ get to call him Dima," Galen shot back. The grin that slid across his face was telling.

 

Orion watched the Hunter half-stumble across the bar to greet "Dima". He could tell by the body language that Galen was absolutely obsessed with him; Dmitry wasn't exactly subtle, either, but he was far more reserved and guarded. 

 

There was something about Dmitry that unsettled Orion. The Titan seemed sweet, but his sandy-colored hair and one blue eye reminded him of Jolyon in a distant way. Maybe it was his demeanor, maybe it was the way he towered over everyone like Judecca, or it could have been Orion extrapolating things on his own. Dmitry was pretty by any standards and the alcohol buzzing through Orion's skull was absolutely not helping him sort out his thoughts. 

 

"Galen's been after him for months," Jude said quietly, almost drowned out by the bar noises. "I don't think Dmitry swings that way. But he's a good sport about it."

 

"Is he blind in his other eye?" Orion deflected.

 

"Yeah. That big ol' scar is from one of Oryx's sisters. It never healed right. He used to run with us until he lost his eye and then Zavala pulled him from the fireteam, really crippled us because he might just be the strongest man I know."

 

Orion downed another drink and tried not to think about it. Several hours passed that were an absolute blur; he could recall Galen retelling a story from atop a table, revolvers drawn, his neon eyes glittering in the darkness of the bar. Jude would occasionally clue Orion in but he could barely make out what he was saying over the noise, so he nodded and carried on with the rest of them. Dmitry was mostly quiet, watching Galen with a bemused smile and drunkenly retying his half-up topknot even though it had never fallen.

 

He was almost relieved when the bartender announced it was closing time.

 

"You still look like someone shit in your sugar bowl," Jude told him, ushering him out the front door. "You gonna tell us about it? Or me, I guess, I dunno where Galen is."

 

"I think he's busy," Orion said. He nodded at the alley across the way. 

 

Dmitry had to duck to kiss Galen, his hand firmly planted on the wall at just the right angle to obscure their faces. Jude giggled.

 

"Well I'll be god-damned," he whispered. "C'mon. Ikora sent me orders for where your quarters are. I'll take you. But do tell me what's bothering you."

 

"I just miss someone."

 

It was a lie, and Jude knew it. But the Exo didn't press.

 

Orion kept it together all the way back to his new quarters. He thanked Jude for walking him back and for the drinks, promising that he would be alright and wondering why of all people Jude was so nice.

 

Or why either of them were nice when he'd murdered their friend. 

 

He collapsed onto his new bed, not bothering to stretch out the linens or even change out of his armor. All of it felt foreign and wrong and no amount of nesting would make him comfortable. He wondered if he was sleeping in his victim's bed. He wondered if Jolyon would ever contact him again, or if he'd ever kiss him or even touch him. 

 

Part of him hoped that he could close his eyes and open them to find himself still in bed with Jolyon, tangled in the sniper's long limbs, but the only thing he saw when he squeezed them shut was the death cast of Cayde-6's face and the barrel of Galen's revolver. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is a bit of a filler chapter. I wanted to introduce a few characters and hopefully flesh out some of the world that Orion is being introduced to, without delving too far into the details of what all he did as Uldren. Judecca-7, Galen, and Dmitry will be around for quite some time and if you'd like some references as to what they look like, I have a couple references up on my tumblr @ dredgensov tagged under Guardian OC.
> 
> We'll check on Jol in the next chapter. ;)


	10. Erebus

 

 

Judecca-7 considered himself a vigilant man. 

 

His Ghost, Judas, was always working. Always scanning, reporting numbers to him quietly when others were distracted. She was determined not to live up to her namesake, as was he. 

 

He wasn't sure what to make of her most recent reading from the Moon.

 

"Galen, can you come over here when you're up?" 

 

Galen groaned on the other end of the comm link.

 

"If this is some hare-brained conspiracy--" the Hunter started, but Jude stopped him.

 

"No, something is _wrong_."

 

* * *

 

 

 

Orion was surprised at just how campus-like the living quarters were in the Tower. He realized his balcony overlooked a small open-air rotunda, surrounded on all sides by doors that led to a maze of corridors and rooms. Guardians milled about in their pajamas and casual-wear and the sight was beyond odd; he felt as though he was watching some sort of behind-the-scenes footage that he wasn't supposed to see. 

 

"Judas asked us to come down to Judecca's room," Pulled Pork announced, startling Orion. 

 

"Judas? Isn't it a little weird that they match names?" Orion mumbled. "Weird names in general."

 

"They're from long ago. I doubt they chose their names. But she says it's urgent, we'll look into that later."

 

Jude met them both outside before they made it to his room. Galen stumbled across the courtyard half-dressed, swatting at Binx the entire way.

 

"Dmitry steal your shirt but leave his pants?" Jude asked, nodding at Galen's too-long joggers. "Figured it would be too small for him."

 

"Sore subject."

 

"Oh?"

 

"Don’t push it, bucket-head,” Galen mumbled. “We had fun but it just wasn’t his thing.”

 

Orion shrugged sympathetically, secretly a little sad for Galen. 

 

“I came, I saw, I conquered, I went home. Or I guess really it was I saw, I conquered—“

 

“Galen, for the love of **_god_** I need you to focus,” Jude blurted. “Sometimes I can’t believe you ever made it out of the Cosmodrome."

 

“Neither can I.”

 

“Anyway. Activity on the Moon cropped up this morning. Deep in the Hellmouth, like...super deep. Unusually deep. It's been silent since we evicted Crota but something has it scrambling," Jude explained, letting Judas project the readings in front of them. "It just came out of nowhere. I really think we should check it out or at least get a closer look."

 

"Hellmouth is...Hive? If we go, I'd like all of us to go together. Hive get out of hand quickly," Orion said. "Which I know you're both aware of, but consider me paranoid."

 

"We're gonna have to break him in," Galen said sarcastically, elbowing Jude. "He doesn't know we operate with no brakes."

 

"Yeeeaaah...you're going to have to fix the mom thing,” Jude agreed. “No offense. But you gotta understand the shit we’ve seen.”

 

“Fair enough. I’ll just assume you know what you’re doing from here on out,” Orion said.

 

“Fantastic assumption. So are we going to the Moon?” Galen asked. “Please? You know I love the moon. It’s so creepy.”

 

“You’re creepy,” Jude mumbled. “But yeah. I guess that means we’re going. Orion, to fill you in, Galen and I were the spearhead of the team that took out Crota, Oryx's son. If you've done any reading on the Hive, and I hope you have, Crota's domain was the Hellmouth and all things lunar. We expect remnants, but not spikes like this."

 

"You sure he's dead?" Orion asked.

 

"A hundred percent. I cracked his skull with my own two hands," Galen answered. "I doubt it's him. It has to be something else..."

 

Orion followed Galen’s eyes across the courtyard and to a sandy-haired Titan, shooting the other Hunter a questioning look as his thought trailed off. 

 

“Already?” he laughed, and Galen shrugged. 

 

“I like 'em tall. And strong—“

 

“No, you just _like 'em_ ,” Jude corrected. “But this is next level for you.”

 

The mystery Titan could feel eyes on him. He whirled, blue eyes landing directly on the fireteam. Galen waved but Jude knocked his hand back down, scolding him quietly. 

 

“Sorry! He’s annoying,” Jude called. “Ignore us, please.”

 

* * *

 

 

 

The derelict ship hung suspended in orbit, heavy like the Sword of Damocles, its trajectory forever fixed to one point on Earth's surface below it. 

 

Anticipation buzzed in the back of Jolyon's skull, tangled with the whispers that had never truly left him. He sat in his cockpit, eyes locked onto the sharp silhouette of the ship, hours passing without his knowledge. The ache that had settled in his chest slowly lifted, but he had accepted that Uldren was dead and needed to _stay dead_ , regardless if the man carrying his face was filling any gaps left behind.

 

It was wrong, he told himself. Everything about it was truly _fucked_ no matter how he looked at it. He never even had the chance to grieve and he mulled over this until he felt like he'd made peace with his lingering pain.

 

He searched endlessly for registration information on the ship. After quite some time, he produced a name that felt wrong on his tongue: Rezyl Azzir.

 

One click lead to another. Eventually he found himself poring over the archives left behind by the Shadows of Yor, the _Book of Unmaking_ , his heart hammering at the idea that there could still be something of value on that ship. The absolute _power_ they were unable to wield. The weapons that could be forged, the creations that could be built, all left to ruin by their ignorance. 

 

He read about the Shadows boarding the ship and how their ears had bled, how the whispers had haunted them, but part of him believed himself immune. He did not carry Light; he was neutral, slipping between sides, with no Light to draw the Darkness.

 

The Darkness did not seek Light as he believed. 

 

When he stepped onto the ship, the airlock hissed his name. He steeled himself and pressed on, winding through claustrophobic corridors that seemed to breathe in time with him. The controls responded to his touch as if he had always been a part of the ship itself. 

 

Another part of him believed this to be some sort of divine providence, that he was meant to be aboard this ship and Destined to wield that which the Shadows could not. The ship had drawn him in and called to him, after all. They had simply stumbled upon it.

 

The rest of him was far more rational; the ship, encrusted in the too-familiar bone and chitin, was mourning its captain. Alive in the barest sense of the word but only because it was swaddled in the cold shell Dredgen Yor had given it.

 

Jolyon settled into the pilots seat, fanning his fingers across the dim holoscreens. The ship came to life with an anguished groan that rattled even his bones.

 

Life support systems came online and it was as if the entire ship was taking a relieved gasp.

 

For quite some time, he stared at the computer's main screen, unsure of what to ask. The idea that the Darkness was just as alive as the Light fascinated him, but it was so broad a subject that he didn't know where to begin.

 

"I just want to learn," he whispered, tracing his fingers over the shape of a hand cannon on the screen. "How did he build Thorn?"

 

The ship whispered back.

 

" _What do you have to give?_ " it breathed.

 

"Everything."

 

" _What do you have to lose_?"

 

He hesitated, He could still taste Orion on his lips, still smell him on his cloak. But the thought only furthered his grief.

 

"Nothing," he said calmly.

 

He smiled when the ship's engines primed.


	11. Acheron

Whether he liked it or not, Orion knew the announcement had to be made. He anticipated a small newsletter, circulated through the terminals and postmasters. Not a ceremony. 

 

The thought made his stomach drop. 

 

"There's not really anything anyone can do about it," Galen said, skimming through the invitation. "I mean...they can talk a lot of shit, but what else can they do?"

 

"Kill me, I suppose," Orion answered.

 

"No, I'm pretty much the only one who can put you in the ground twice. Just make your Ghost hang out here."

 

"I don't know why this takes precedence over the Moon, anyway."

 

Galen sighed, half-heartedly swatting at Binx as the Ghost purposefully hovered too close to his face. 

 

"Zavala is a sucker for anything that makes the Vanguard look more _grandiose_ ," Binx said. "Or maybe heroic is the better word. It's like he thinks it'll hype the other Guardians up and they'll all get swept into his big superhero narrative about saving Earth or whatever."

 

"Just play along and when you get done with your little parade we'll get to the actual work," Galen added. "We don't need them. Never have."

 

"Do you think I should have--"

 

"Look. I hate your face. But you're a damn fine Hunter and you're level-headed, you're logical, you're what I need calling my shots when I'm up to my neck in Hive. Nobody else would step up to the plate. So just roll with it. And don't make me compliment you again."

 

* * *

 

The ceremony was the first time the Vanguard had stood together as a whole since before Cayde's death. Orion was wary to step up on to the platform;  their vantage point from above the crowd made him feel as if Ikora had painted a target on the back of his skull and the unwelcoming scowls did not ease his nerves. 

There were enough Guardians and humans in the Tower to fill the entire plaza and then some. People leaned over platforms and railings to get a glimpse of Orion in his Vanguard armor, colored black as night, his hair pulled back from his face for all to see. There were even people lining the hallways and catwalks, nearly spilling into the hangar bays, and a record number of them were Hunters who hadn't seen the tower in eons.

 

Zavala motioned for him to stand between the two of them. Had Orion not been so nervous, he would have marveled at how his own armor shone in the sunlight, but he could only keep his gaze focused on the mountains in the distance.

 

"We have walled ourselves into this tower believing that it's the only way to see the City -- Earth -- safe," Zavala began. "I wrongfully sat at the sidelines waiting for answers and signs. And I understand that, to some of you, my inaction is seen as cowardice."

 

Whispers scattered throughout the crowd.

 

"I may not be a coward, but I have been blinded by my own ideals. My vision of how the Vanguard should operate is out of touch with what we really need. As Guardians, as a community. We need a Vanguard with initiative. We should be beside you on all fronts, leading, not directing from afar. Your new Hunter Vanguard has shown me the initiative I think we all need to see."

 

"Murder isn't what I'd call initiative," someone called, and the crowd began to murmur around him.

 

"You know as well as I do that this man is not Uldren Sov," Zavala countered. It was the first time the name had been said in the Tower for quite some time. "It's absolutely--"

 

"It's pretty fucking sick of you, Zavala. This is a low blow," came another voice, and this time Orion pinpointed it as another Hunter.

 

"Then where were **_any_** of you when the position opened?!" Ikora asked. The courtyard fell silent. "You all want to be the victim in our friend's death as if any of you really cared about him. Orion _knows_ who he was and had the integrity to step up and try to set things right. He took this on without hesitation while every single one of you _fled_. I know what Cayde would have done. And you do too."

 

Her voice rang off the high walls, echoing far out into the mountains. Orion could spot the sullen looks from a mile away, all of them visibly uncomfortable with having been called out in such a way.

 

"There's no fix for what I did or who I was," Orion said, almost too softly. He inched forward. "I think I owe my second chance to all of you and to the Vanguard, to learn and grow and be what they need. I want to help, but you have to let me try."

 

There were several long, stifling moments of absolute silence. The sun felt too hot on his face, his scalp felt too tight around his skull with his hair pulled into such a small bun. Everything was suffocating as he waited for a response; he wondered when he would feel the first shot pierce clean through his forehead but the moment never came.

 

"We're returning to combat with you," Zavala finished. "All of us. I expect to see cooperation. I expect the same reverence that you showed Cayde and I expect all of you, every single one of you, to do some introspection on what it is to be a Guardian. Orion is here to stay."

 

"He slips up once and he's mine," another voice called. "One strike. That's all you get."

 

Nearly every single Hunter began to transmat out of the tower.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Jolyon watched the broadcast from the surface of the Moon.

 

His heart ached when Orion appeared behind Zavala, brilliant in his obsidian-colored armor. The unrest in the crowd was expected but not the Commander's speech; Jolyon suspected that he was floundering, trying desperately to deflect attention away from the black and gold elephant in the plaza.

 

He wanted to see Orion one more time. Taste him, kiss him, feel him against his skin. It was as masochistic as it was nostalgic. Orion was not who he wanted but just being in his vicinity, filling in the new memories with old ones was enough to keep Jolyon afloat.

 

Or so he thought.

 

Dredgen Yor's ship had brought him to the Hellmouth, a place that he'd sworn he'd never enter even with Uldren. But there he sat, Supremacy trained on the gaping maw, anguished by the thought of being in love with a soulless shell of his prince.

 

Nothing to live for. Everything to die for.

 

He slung his Supremacy across his back and broke into a sprint, white hair waving behind him as he slipped through the gate and into the Darkness below.

 


	12. Charon

"The last ping from Jolyon's Supremacy indicates he was at or near the Hellmouth."

 

"Is he actively moving on Luna?"

 

Petra sighed hard, fidgeting with the comms console off-screen. "I don't know," she answered. "That's the last data we have. I'm sure your Ghost can corroborate."

 

"What about his ship?"

 

"My corsairs have it in tow. It was empty when they found it."

 

" _Shit_ ," Orion hissed. "I had no clue. I thought he might come back to you or at the very least check in--"

 

"Am I allowed to know what's going on or is this some sort of top secret confession tape?" Galen cut in, waving his hand in front of the console. "The Moon is currently relative to my interests."

 

"Cousin," Petra mumbled. She feigned a sardonic smile. "Orion hasn't filled you in?"

 

"Mmm, nooooooo," Galen drawled. "Do tell."

 

"I'll let you two discuss the details. But do tell the rest of your new Vanguard friends that I will have Corsair boots on the ground within one rotation. If you have business on Luna then I'd like to avoid having to step on toes to recover my friend," she added. "For your sake and his, stay out of this, Orion."

 

"You can't tell me to do that," Orion said. "My guys are saying there's activity on the Moon. We need to investigate. And we both have access to the same data that says Jolyon just so happens to be in convenient proximity to both our targets. If I want to look for him, I'm going to look for him."

 

"You don't know what mental state he's in."

 

"Neither do you. He can't kill me. You, on the other hand, are far more likely to be smeared into the moon dust."

 

"You're starting to sound like your old self again. Petulant as ever."

 

Galen snorted, tossing his hands up. "I'm out. That was a low blow, _cousin_."

 

"Coming from a man who's thick as thieves with the Drifter? Galen, you _are_ a low blow."

 

"You're not wrong. I'm so short that half the time I don't even have to get on my knees," Galen shot back.

 

Petra cut the feed with an exasperated groan.

 

* * *

 

Jolyon fell. He fell for what felt like an eternity, deep into the bowels of the Hellmouth, until at last he landed with a tremendous crash.

 

He was greatly surprised that he didn't die. Or maybe he did, he wasn't entirely sure. Something was jutting through his chest and out his back yet he felt absolutely nothing. Only cold.

 

When his eyes began to adjust to the darkness, he could see that he was sprawled across a bed of bones. Thousands of carcasses, discarded carrion, all in varying states of decay. Ash-colored dust coated everything on and around him; black was seeping from something beneath him.

 

But it wasn't from beneath him. He realized that it was his own blood, stained by rot, oozing from his face and chest. Carefully, he pushed himself up to his elbows to touch his face. Where his right eye had been was now a crushed socket, filled with splintered chitin and bone.

 

He didn't panic. Instead, he worked his way to the bottom of the carrion pile where his Supremacy lay battered and bent. It registered his touch weakly and he could see the scope begin to read out information, red to indicate his suffering vitals.

 

It blinked once before fading away entirely, leaving him both stranded and blinded in the pitch black.

 

He lay still for quite some time, plotting his next move. He knew that his dominant eye was gone for good and the thought should have destroyed him, but just like the pain of being impaled, he felt nothing.

 

_A sniper with no eye_ , he thought, chuckling to himself. _Useless. A sniper with a broken rifle._

 

The longer that he sat still, the louder the whispers grew. He squeezed his good eye shut and listened until he could pick out a single thread and follow it.

 

" _What do you have left to give?_ "

 

"Everything," he said again.

 

_"We have taken all that you are._ "

 

"No. I'm still alive. I'm thinking and I'm breathing."

 

" _What do you want_?"

 

"To know. Knowledge. I want to know what the Shadows knew. I want to know why the Traveler would have us be thoughtless drones. Empty shells with programmed personalities."

 

The carrion began to shift beneath Jolyon.

 

" _Speak for us, creature, and we will show you the universe. We will build you a body, a vessel, if you would speak for those of us whose voices have been snuffed out by the Light."_

 

"Deal," he said simply.

 

" _There is a far greater threat than you or I or the rest of this system can fathom. Savathun and her sister see no middle ground with the Light. They wish to destroy; we wish to apply it as a tool."_

 

"I think I can do that."

 

" _Do you know who we are?"_

 

"I don't care."

 

" _Remember, when you wake, the children of Nokris."_

 

Pain rippled through Jolyon's body and he shuddered, a soft moan falling from his lips.


	13. Oizys

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the slow update on this one. It's a bit of a filler chapter and it's dialogue heavy; some of this dialogue is very coarse. Jude and Galen have a lot of history that I want to try to lay out as we go along and I feel it's important we see the dynamic between Galen and Orion as it changes and evolves. Einar will return very soon; he's an OC that's also on my tumblr @ dredgensov. Again. Sorry it took forever, I hope you stick around for the next update, Jolyon will pop back in and we'll get a glimpse at what he's up to ;)

Galen had a plan. A plan that involved the bar, liquor, and Orion. His plans rarely failed; Judecca could attest to that.

 

But as it turned out, Orion was a hard egg to crack. Even piss-drunk, he wouldn't spill his secrets entirely. Galen laid on every charm he knew he had; fluttering his bright yellow eyes, pouting with full lips, touching Orion's forearm with all the feigned concern in the world. Galen had never seen his own flirting fall so flat and he almost took it as a direct hit to his ego until he realized that Orion was _in love_ with Jolyon.

 

"What are the fucking odds," he whispered to Jude, catching the Titan as he returned from the snack machine. "You remember that wraith-y lookin' guy from the Reef? Jolyon Till the Rachis?"

 

"Can't forget him. What about him?"

 

"You know he was close with Uldren. My kind of close," Galen said lowly. "That sad sack is still in love with him."

 

"I don't think it works that way."

 

"No, but like...somehow they've been in contact. And more. I can see it on him. He's absolutely sick for Jolyon and I bet you every last ounce of Glimmer that's what this whole moon business is about. It's all making me _nervous_ , Jude."

 

"That's such a gross cosmic joke. You really think Uldren loved him back that way before?" Jude asked. "And chill out. You know he's not up to anything nefarious. That's not Uldren 2.0."

 

"I know he loved Jolyon. It wasn't one-sided."

 

"How do you know?"

 

"Nevermind that."

 

Jude trapped Galen by the bar, grinning as best an Exo could.

 

"You have to now," he prodded, and Galen sighed.

 

"You won't let it go?"

 

"Never in a million years. And we could possibly live that long, if you think about it."

 

"Fine. When Uldren went absolutely batty and we shoved him in the Prison of Elders, I might have been Jolyon's--"

 

"Booty call?"

 

"I was gonna say rebound, but sure. He cried all over me and told me everything. It was awful," Galen admitted.

 

"Galen, why would you even--"

 

"Have you seen him? Why wouldn't I? But I guess I was the one who got the pipe because when you really bring it down to the brass tacks, I look like Uldren in a roundabout way."

 

Jude cackled. "I mean you do, a little. Maybe like a baby brother. But you gotta admit, that's a little fucked up."

 

"The whole thing is fucked up, Jude. I bet Jolyon couldn't let it go. Thought Orion was his second chance but one of them flaked," Galen finished.

 

"Wasn't Orion, by the looks of it. Poor dude probably doesn't even understand what's really going on."

 

"Don't you dare tell him I fucked his man."

 

"Was it worth it, though? Like do you really feel like letting Jolyon Till the Rachis rebound-raw you was the pinnacle of your decision-making career?" Jude teased.

 

"Yes and no. He cried himself to sleep with me trapped under him like a throw pillow. That mane of hair weighs more than I do on its own."

 

Jude snorted, nudging Galen away from the bar. "You're disgusting," he teased, booting the Hunter toward the tables. "Look. That blond you saw in the courtyard is talking to Orion. See if you can hook him."

 

"I highly doubt he's game. I'm not having another Dmitry."

 

"Won't know until you try. How long has it been? Almost a year since you had any--"

 

"Don't remind me, Jude."

 

* * *

 

Einar. 

 

Einar was tall and beautiful and everything Galen dreamed about at night. Glittering blue eyes. White-gold hair. A jawline that could cut granite. Shoulders wider than most door frames and abs carved from marble polished by gods. He could see them peek out when Einar stretched his arms over his head, straightening his back after playing cards in the bar for hours.

 

Galen thought he was being fairly discreet in his ogling. The Titan didn't seem to notice at first, but suddenly their eyes met across the table and Galen knew he'd messed up. He excused himself quickly and disappeared outside, taking a borrowed seat on a carpet vendor's merchandise.

 

"Am I bothering you?"

 

Galen nearly wheezed when the Titan's booming voice rattled his skull. He peered up at the other man, biting his lip nervously when Einar's eyes -- absolutely unflinching and stone cold-- settled on his face.

 

"No, I just thought I knew you," Galen tried. "Sorry."

 

"Thought you knew, or wanted to get to know?"

 

Einar's accent was absolutely foreign and unfamiliar and his phrasing was mind-boggling, but Galen knew what he was asking.

 

"If I say yes to both and one is wrong, do I still get credit for trying?" he asked.

 

"One is extra credit if you get it right."

 

"Is someone paying you to fuck with me right now?"

 

"I paid myself in beer."

 

"I...don't understand. I think you're drunk and maybe a little confused," Galen mumbled. "I mean I do, but let's be honest. I'm not your type."

 

"If I said you were?"

 

"I wouldn't believe you."

 

Einar plopped down beside him with a massive thump, towering over Galen even sitting down.

 

"So...if I said I find you attractive and want to invite you back to my quarters for more liquor and long talks until sunrise, that would be unbelievable?" Einar asked. Galen sat silently for several seconds, stunned, and Einar seemed to be genuinely concerned by his lack of an answer. "Is it because I'm human? Someone told me once that Awoken don't like humans."

 

"Human has nothing to do with it, I just find this a little too good to be true. If you know what I mean. And I--...wait. Long talks until sunrise?"

 

"I don't kiss on the first date."

 

For the first time in maybe millennia, Galen felt himself blush. 

 

"This is a joke. This is a prank," Galen said, shaking his head. "There's a man sitting next to me that's like seven feet tall with muscles bigger than my head--"

 

"You can touch the muscles on the second date."

 

"If I say yes, I'm holding you to that."

 

"I expect you to. Maybe I like being touched."

 

Galen scoffed, bewildered. "What even is your accent? It's killing me."

 

"I'll tell you on the third date."

 

"Alright. You sold me. But if this is a joke or you just wanna have a one-nighter with the guy who killed Oryx or Ghaul or who the fuck ever for bragging rights--"

 

"I want to make rumors with you. Not come up with them on my own."

 

Galen's mouth popped open as if to say something, but words wouldn't come.

 

"Is everything that comes out of your mouth some sort of one-liner?" he asked finally, and Einar shrugged. "Someone's feeding you lines, aren't they? But y'know it's working and I'm tired so how about you take me back to your place and tuck me into your big ol' bed and I'll sweet talk you until we're both blue in the face."

 

"I'd like that."

 

* * *

 

"If this is gonna work out, I need you to be a little more...open with me and Galen," Jude said, watching his Ghost spin thoughtfully across the courtyard.

 

"I thought I had been," Orion protested. 

 

"A little. Not that you're a book of secrets of anything, but something is eating you alive and if we're going to function as a team, we can't have a weak link."

 

"Fine. Ask away."

 

Jude motioned for Orion to sit down beside him, patting the stone bench invitingly.

 

"So this big tall guy. Jolyon. Now that it's all out in the open about who you are and all that jazz..." Jude started, watching Orion try to settle and fail, "Where was your relationship headed this go around?"

 

"You say that like it was supposed to be a second chance," Orion said, his eyes fixed on something beyond the horizon. 

 

"Maybe it was. Maybe it wasn't. I don't know how long I've been alive at this point but it wouldn't be the weirdest thing I've seen. Definitely the biggest coincidence."

 

"I feel like this is all my fault. I knew something was wrong but I just...let it happen. He kept touching my tattoos and it dawned on me that it was because he knew them better than I do. I said something about it. He ran. And now Petra is up in arms looking for him, blaming me for it when I didn't know, and he's in the one place that couldn't possibly be any more dangerous than it already is."

 

"You were falling for him. Again. And you think he's tied up in all the movement on the Moon."

 

"Yeah."

 

Jude huffed, leaning back against the bench with a thud.

 

"Y'know. I remember the first time I met the old you," Jude said. "I wanted to put your head through your sister's throne. Galen and I brought you the head of a Vex Gate Lord and the two of you tied up like wildcats. But when we walked out of her throne room, I saw Jolyon just sort of materialize out of the shadows and all of a sudden you looked so small and vulnerable in front of him. He held your face. It was the only time I ever saw you smile."

 

"But that's not me now."

 

"No. Not at all. But Jolyon can't let go of that. I know what he's thinking, and he's thinking that Uldren is buried somewhere in the back of your skull and that if he just pokes and prods he can pull him back out. But Uldren is as dead as the day Galen put a bullet in his skull."

 

"Why was it Galen? Why not you?"

 

"I pitied Uldren. I couldn't pull the trigger. Petra couldn't either. But Galen and Uldren were so much alike that I think Galen did it out of pure spite. And now here you are to haunt him, as his superior, and if you keep moping and mourning and shutting Galen out, he'll get antsy. He'll get restless thinking that the whole ordeal is going to happen again. If he thinks he's going to lose me or someone else close to him, I can't guarantee he won't turn on you."

 

Orion sat silently, almost in shock.

 

"I know that seems wrong. Or maybe that doesn't really seem like him. But it is, it's him, and it's already on his mind. He won't let onto it, he jokes and he plays it off like this is all some big game, but that's the thing about him. You won't know until it's too late and you're staring down the barrel of the Thorn he keeps very artfully concealed somewhere on that tiny body," Jude finished. "I've got him distracted, I think. Otherwise he'll sit and ruminate on it all until it eats him alive. My suggestion is you talk to him, tell him what's going on in that reconstituted brain of yours and what happened with Jolyon, before he gets any more nervous."

 

"I don't understand. He was fine earlier. You were fine earlier. And now you come out here to corner me and threaten me because I don't just...vomit my thoughts to my fireteam?" Orion gasped. "I'm still trying to wrap my head around the past two--"

 

"Am I cornering you, Orion? You're still sitting here. I'm just warning you. Galen walks a razor's edge and even I don't know what his next move will be sometimes."

 

As if to punctuate his point, Jude pushed away from the bench, leaving Orion alone with his thoughts.


	14. Phrike

Jolyon dreamed for quite some time.

 

He dreamed of lying on his back and staring up at the stars. He identified the places he had been; Earth. Mars. Io. Venus. Titan.

 

The space between the stars was intriguing.

 

If he focused, he could almost feel it. Like lying in cool, dark water, drifting over a lake with no bottom. Weightless, until he exhaled and he could feel himself sink.

 

He drew in a deep breath and sank beneath the Darkness as his lungs emptied.

 

* * *

 

"The Hellmouth is awake and absolutely crawling with activity. We have our theories on what it could be but we'll have to check it out whether you want us to go or not."

 

Zavala sighed, his eyes never leaving the data crawling across his screen.

 

"Petra is already out there. They're stalled just outside because they know they can't possibly deal with the Hive," Galen continued. "She's after one of her officers she thinks is still alive. I think he's part of the fray. Either way, we need to be there."

 

"Is this officer the source or just--"

 

"Definitely not the source. Maybe just caught up in it. I have a few suspicions, but you aren't gonna like it."

 

Several images flashed across the console in front of the Vanguard. None of them were familiar to Orion, but he felt the dread that settled on Ikora and Zavala as clear as if it were his own.

 

"I don't think Nokris is really gone," Galen said, pausing on a photo of runes and symbols. "I sent a drone out to scope around. His mark has popped up in more than a few conspicuous places."

 

"You think he has a throne world?" Ikora asked.

 

"I'm almost certain. We didn't bother to look into that because we were all hung up on the Xol business. This could be our biggest fuck-up yet."

 

"What would Nokris want with the moon? That was Crota's territory," Zavala said.

 

"A whole lot of death. Leftovers from the raid. Dead fireteams. A free army of Hive with no leaders or loyalty."

 

"What does Petra's officer have to do with any of this?"

 

Galen looked up at Orion expectantly.

 

"I'm not sure what his role is but his last location was just outside the Hellmouth," Orion mumbled, hesitant to look anyone in the eyes. "Even she doesn't know what he's doing there. His ship was retrieved by her corsairs and was found to be empty."

 

"Negotiate with her. Have the ship searched by our own hands. Orion, consider this your maiden voyage," Zavala started. "Take your fireteam and get eyes on the Hellmouth. Do not engage anyone or anything until we can confirm the scope of the situation. Galen and Judecca-7 are our absolute best and I expect you to bring them back in one piece."

 

"I'm precious cargo," Galen teased.

 

"Irreverent, obnoxious cargo," Ikora corrected. Galen feigned shock. "But important nonetheless."

 

For a moment, Orion hesitated. He could feel Galen's shrewd yellow eyes on him, cunning and unnerving, and he wondered if he was doing the right thing. 

 

Galen was cataloguing every little reaction and Orion knew it. He was building a library of all Orion's strengths and weaknesses, stowing them away for later, and Orion wondered what impression he was making.

 

"Consider it done. We'll leave within this cycle," Orion said finally, and Galen seemed satisfied with his answer.

 

* * *

 

Jolyon did not know how much time had passed. When he woke, he was still bathed in pitch black.

 

But he could _see_.

 

Pain pierced through his skull. He grit his teeth and forced himself to his feet, his stomach heaving from the intensity of the pain.

 

"Creature? the Darkness whispered.

 

"Jol," he said back. He stumbled forward until he tripped over his rifle, falling back to his knees. "My name is Jol."

 

"How brazen of you. And in our own tongue."

 

He paused.

 

"I spoke to you?" he asked, barely a whisper. His hand flew to his eye, landing on something foreign and _wrong_.

 

"It is a gift. You wished for knowledge. Now you may question us freely."

 

"What am I?"

 

The emptiness shimmered before him, presenting him with a sort of mirror; green and blue eyes peered back at him, both his own. Blackness crept from beneath his tunic, reaching toward his new eye with poisonous tendrils that seemed to be alive beneath his skin.

 

"Revenant," came the title from the depths. "A dead man walking."

 

"So I did die?" Jolyon countered.

 

"You were dying. But why waste a ready and willing participant?"

 

"Why do I remember? The Traveler--"

 

"The Traveler needs bodies with no strings. Dogma is implanted with no resistance. Free thought is easily manipulated when a blank mind has no need to question the force that gifted it freedom."

 

He struggled to his feet again, this time slinging his rifle across his back. He could tell by the weight of it that it had been altered; rigid plates dug into his back and it hummed against him in a way that was inexplicable.

 

"You have all the agency and free will to move as you see fit. To work for us. To become a god in your own right. Your reasons for seeking us out are what make you valuable. Why would we remove the one thing that motivates you? Why would we need a shell without the pain of experience that you carry?"

 

"What if I decide against working for you?" Jolyon asked.

 

"Then you may go. You are only one, and we are many. Your loss would be nominal. But the weight of your choices will always be visible. You will always carry the Darkness for all to see."

 

Jolyon stared at his reflection. Blood matted his hair to his face and his armor was in tatters, but he felt alive in a way he couldn't find words for. Despite his knowing that he was a walking corpse, the shimmering void flowing just beneath his skin was exhilarating.

 

"I want my ship and I want a bath," he started. "When I get back, we have a lot to negotiate. Show me you'll back me and I'll be your face."

 

For a moment, he feared he'd spoken out of turn. He could hear the familiar scuttle of thralls before he could see them; in just seconds, they were surrounding his perch atop the carrion.

 

They made no move to strike him. When his new vision adjusted, he could see them kneeling all around him in reverent obedience.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've been hesitating posting this because Shadowkeep uh.......really went where I kind of wanted to go with my own story and I was a little taken aback. I've had suspicions about Shadowkeep since we first saw the previews for it but holy heck it's like...eerily similar to where I was headed with this work. There's so much to unpack. 
> 
> That being said, I think I want to finish this one, but I feel like a bad parody now that Shadowkeep is actually out. So who knows. Thanks for reading, again.


End file.
